


Smooth the Descent

by richbrook



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Magic, Slow Burn, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7029187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richbrook/pseuds/richbrook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jason is cursed by a powerful hex he is trapped within his own mind and forced to confront his worst fears. As the others search for the witch responsible, it falls on Tim to enter Jason's mind and attempt to lift the spell. With time running against them, fragile bonds are tested and Tim comes to learn a lot more about Jason than either of them would have liked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooth the Descent

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the first few months after Jason's redemption when he starts to work with the batfam again. Tags and warnings are to be added and subject to change with each chapter. Un-beta'd so all mistakes are entirely my own. This is my first work published to the archive so please be gentle-- that being said, all concrit and comments are much appreciated. Hope you enjoy.

_"The Gates of Hell are open, night and day;_

_Smooth the descent, and easy is the way."_

-Virgil (Aeneid)

 

 

“He should never have gone in there on his own.” Bruce throws his cowl aside, his eyes bright with fury. “I explicitly said—“

“Those people are _alive_ because he got there first,” Dick counters, his chin raised defiantly. “If he wanted to go in on his own I couldn’t—“

“Then you should never have _let_ him,” a tray of medical instruments is sent soaring across the med-bay in an uncharacteristic display of rage. The deafening crash stirs a number of shrieking bats into flight across the cave.

Dick blinks in surprise but does not recoil. “Bruce, I—“

“I knew he was reckless, but I was a fool to trust your judgement on this,” Bruce rounds on Dick, his teeth bared. “Because of your heedlessness—“

“Don’t you dare pin this all on me,” Dick hisses, matching Bruce’s stare. “Maybe he wouldn’t feel the need to work alone if _you_ didn’t push him away in the first place!” 

“Stop.” Tim says, barely audible over the bats shrieking, the men arguing. He brushes a lock of white hair, sweat-damp and matted with blood off Jason’s forehead. His skin is cold and clammy to the touch; his eyes are open but sightless, wide with terror and darting about the cave rapidly. “Please... Just stop.”

“Master Bruce, I implore you, none of this is helping the boy.”

“None of this would have happened if he had just—“

“Alfred is right, Father,” Damian interjects, arms folded, his tone grim. “Todd needs our help now. This blame-game won’t solve anything.”

Bruce swallows and shakes his head. “I-- I thought he was exposed to fear toxin somehow, but he’s not responding to any combination of the antidotes.” When he finally looks at Jason, restrained by the wrists and ankles to the gurney, Tim sees the look is his eyes is not fury, but fear- unfamiliar and terrifying in the eyes of his mentor. “The bloods are coming up clean and there’s no trace of any virus in his system. Preliminary tests suggest nothing is—“

“Stop talking about him like he’s a damn lab rat,” Dick growls. “He’s your _son_.”

Bruce’s mouth thins to a hard line, his eyes wrenching shut when Jason moans, broken and pained. “I know he is..” he says softly, approaching the gurney to stand beside Tim. He presses his fingers to Jason’s pulsepoint and shakes his head. “This is more than just some virus or toxin..”

Tim clasps Jason’s hand; his wrists are raw and chafed where he had been thrashing violently against the restraints. “It’s like he’s trapped.. in his head somehow.”

 Bruce grasps Tim’s shoulder tight in revelation. “Then we get someone who can go in there and find him.”

“Zatanna.” Dick’s features lighten with hope for the first time since dragging Jason into the cave.  

“And perhaps another old friend,” Bruce nods determinedly and strides to the bat-computer with Dick in tow. Tim feels his heart pound with more than just nauseating dread, but he doesn’t dare to take his eyes away from the man before him.

Although his skin is cold to the touch, sweat beads across Jason’s face and bare chest. His body is marred by countless scars, both old and new. Some of them are thin, jagged lacerations from a blade, others are deep and puckered wounds from a bullet. The one that unsettles Tim the most by far is the thick, Y-shaped scar that covers Jason’s torso; white and rope-like, it has long since healed, but will likely never fade.

Since his resurrection, Tim had often wondered if that particular scar would have remained after Jason’s dip in the Lazarus pit. This being his first time to see it, Tim finds no gratification in having his suspicions confirmed.

“Master Jason will endure, Timothy.” Alfred places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “He is a strong lad. He will come back to us soon.”

_But at what cost.._ Tim does not say.

“I know he will, Alf,” he says instead, patting Alfred’s hand. “I know..”

***

It was Dick and Bruce who had wrestled Jason from the Batmobile into the cave. Tim had been prepping the med-bay when they arrived. Although they had managed to zip-tie his hands behind his back, Jason was still kicking and screaming wildly, blood was pouring freely from Dick’s nose and a dark bruise was already blooming on Bruce’s jaw.

“Get the restraints, Tim!” Bruce had barked, struggling to keep his grip.

“What?” Tim had stood dumbstruck and terrified. Jason thrashed against them like a wild animal in a trap, ready to chew its own limb off. His screams were hoarse and broken, his throat sounded raw and bloodied.

“The restraints, Tim! Now!” Bruce yelled and Tim jumped to action, numbly fixing them to the gurney at speed before helping them lay Jason down and secure his wrists and ankles.

“Dick, hold him still,” Bruce shouted over Jason’s pitiful sobs. “Tim, cut off his shirt and jacket. I’m going to get the antidotes for the toxin. Just— try to keep him still.”

Tim had seen the effects of Scarecrow’s fear gas—had experienced it firsthand—and looking at Jason, wailing, spitting and struggling as if he were fighting for his life, he knew this was something entirely different he had fallen victim to.

“Jaybird-- Jason, shhh,” Dick soothed, pressing down on his shoulders in an attempt to keep him still. “It’s me, Littlewing. It’s Dick-- your old pal. You’re safe with us, buddy.” If Jason could hear him, he was not responding, groaning and whimpering; his back arching off the bed, strung taut like a bow. “Jay, _listen_ —you’re home. You’re safe— _fuck_ —You have to trust me.”

Tim had fetched the trauma shears, was standing over the gurney, his hands shaking and stomach churning. Jason Todd—the stoic, unflappable man he had only come to know in recent months was screaming and writhing before him, wordless pleas and broken sobs echoing around the cave as Dick tried in vain to calm him.

“Tim— _fuck_ —he’s too strong!” Dick was lying almost completely on top of Jason. Rivulets of blood trickled down his chin. “Do it now!”

“Right. It’s fine—we’re going to be fine.” The medical shears cut through the jacket like butter, but Jason’s struggling did not make matters easy. Dick was murmuring soothing encouragements, to Jason or himself, Tim was not sure, but he was careful not to nick any skin as he cut away the fabric of his t-shirt with trembling fingers.

“Oh my God...” Dick had breathed when he saw the autopsy scar.  A swell of nausea overtook Tim, but he did not gasp. Bruce was standing over them, his mouth thin and grave.

Tim was grateful he could not see his eyes beneath the cowl.

***

Bruce had sedated him first—a mild dose to begin with, but when that had no effect he continued to increase the dosage until he could not safely administer anymore. It had stopped the violent struggling at least, but Jason was still very much conscious, trapped and terrified in his own horrific sense of reality.

A small whimper creeps up Jason’s throat and Tim squeezes his hand gently. “I’m not sure he’d be too happy with me being here,” he muses aloud. “He doesn’t like me very much.”

“Nonsense, Timothy.” Alfred squeezes his shoulder. “Master Jason was always very caring. He... has had to overcome much adversity in his life—“ He clears his throat and Tim is sure that if he turned around he would see tears brimming in Alfred’s eyes. He does not look away from Jason’s face. “I can assure you, Master Bruce will do everything in his power to make Jason well again.”

“Todd is a nuisance at the best of times,” Damian approaches them hesitantly, his arms folded tight across his chest, “but he doesn’t deserve this. Pennyworth is right—“

“Master Damian.”

“ _Tt_.” Damian rolls his eyes. “ _Alfred_ is right. Father will see to it that he’s back to his irksome self in no time.”

“I sure hope so,” Tim manages a tight smile, stroking his thumb along Jason’s bruised knuckles. “Maybe then he could stay—“

His words are cut off by a loud crackling behind them. He jerks around to see two figures shrouded by a swirl of smoke. One of them he recognises as Zatanna. The man beside her is large and brooding, a white streak running through his scarlet hair. Tim can only presume to know who he is.

“Zatanna. Jason.” Bruce nods at the pair curtly. “Thank you for coming at such short notice. I would offer an explanation but it would probably be quicker if you take a look.”

“The situation must be truly dire if _you’re_ asking for help, Bruce,” Zatanna pats Dick’s cheek affectionately in greeting, her expression falls when she approaches the med-bay. “Oh..”

“This is the boy we’ve spoken about,” Jason Blood comments, hooded eyes raking over Jason’s scars. “The one who came back from the other side?”

“Yes,” Bruce says, sombrely. “He went rogue on a mission and came into contact with something which sent him into a state of...”

“Insanity.” Damian says shortly.

“Wild _panic_.” Bruce corrects through gritted teeth. He sighs. “My first prognosis that he had been exposed to Scarecrow’s fear toxin proved incorrect—he has not been responding to the antidote. He’s been sedated enough to prevent him from hurting himself or others. I’ve run comprehensive tests and scans and there is no indication of a virus in his system or any damage to his brain.” He clears his throat, a muscle jumps in jaw. “In short, I am at a loss. I would be most grateful for any aid you could offer.”

“What he’s _trying_ to say,” Dick rolls his eyes, “is will you help us, _please_?”

“It was certainly a spell of some sorts that made him like this,” Zatanna frowns. “I can feel it in his aura.”

“A practitioner of dark magick is responsible.” Blood adds, head tilted to the side in curiosity as Jason stirs fitfully, his breath coming in ragged pants. “He most likely came into contact with a cursed object.  A metuos curse, I assume, from the symptoms he is exhibiting.”

“Metus.” Tim says before he can stop himself. “Latin for fear.”

“Indeed it is,” Blood looks at him for the first time, an approving glint in his eyes. “Similar to Crane’s fear toxin, a metuos hex will force the victim to relive and confront their worst fears.”

“A nasty curse for anybody to experience,” Zatanna muses grimly. “But considering Jason’s past..”

“Can you help him?” Bruce’s asks brusquely.

“If we establish a telepathic link we should be able to retrieve him.” Blood says. “Then it is only a matter of deconstructing the spell from within.”

“Will there be any lasting effects?” Dick’s tone is cautious.

“You came to us right on time,” Zatanna smiles warmly. “Prolonged exposure to the metuos curse can lead to severe PTSD, or in the worst case, even brain damage. But Jay hasn’t been hexed all that long and he’s a tough cookie. He’ll be just fine.”

Dick breathes a sigh of relief, but Bruce remains tense. “Do what you need to do,” he says. “Time has never been a friend of ours.”

“Of course.” Blood nods and rolls up the sleeves of his turtle neck, revealing sleeves of tattoos covering both of his arms. Pentacles, inverted crosses and countless unidentifiable runes snake across tanned, weather-beaten skin. He catches Tim gazing at them and his mouth twitches to a smirk. “The result of a rebellious phase in the 16th century,” he says and Tim feels his face reddening. He averts his gaze and hears Blood give a soft grunt of amusement.

“Perhaps when young Jason has come around he and I could discuss his experience on the other side,” he says thoughtfully. “The irony is not lost on me that being immortal for all these centuries has only made me more curious about the afterlife.”

“Another time,” Bruce growls, eyes darkening.

Blood smirks again. “Territorial as ever, old friend.” He rubs his hands together and stands over Jason, his palms hovering over his head. “It might do the boy some good to— _Agh_!“

It takes a moment for Tim to register the flash of light and the smell of burning flesh. Blood is cradling his hand, his palm smouldering and Jason screams; a blood-curdling sound of agony. He begins thrashing anew; kicking and writhing, his spine arching and every joint and muscle going into spasm.

“Oh my God...” Tim breathes, struck by fear as Dick and Bruce attempt to pin Jason down. Bruce is yelling, the colour has drained from Dick’s face and Damian buries his head into Alfred’s side. Jason’s eyes roll back in his head, tendons strain and veins pulse visibly in his neck as he screams.

“What did you do?!” Bruce yells over Jason’s cries and Tim gazes in horror as a blue pentacle glows on his forehead where Blood touched him. “Goddammit, do something!”

 “EB MLAC!” Zatanna shouts and for a moment there is blessed silence. Jason ceases his violent struggling and his head lolls to the side, his blue irises visible once more.

“Jesus Christ...” Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and Bruce rounds on Blood snarling.

“What the hell was that?!” he spits. “You were supposed to _help_ , not send him into a fit!”

Blood is still cradling his hand, looking significantly paler. “I... I underestimated the strength of the spell.”

“This isn’t a damn game,” Bruce growls, more furious than Tim has ever seen him, “This is my son!”

“I was a fool...” Blood says, his mouth taut. “He has been cursed by more than just one simple hex. There is evil sorcery at play.”

“A black protection spell..” Zatanna frowns at the pentacle, sharp and incandescent on Jason’s forehead. “One to ward off contact with other magick users.”

“Just one of many curses weaved through him.” Blood says, examining the charred flesh of his palm. “I have not encountered a myriad of spells this sophisticated in many years.”

“Did you manage to see anything in the short time you were connected?” Zatanna asks hopefully.

“Jason is in there,” Blood nods. “He has been fighting but his mind is waging a war on itself. It won’t be long before...”

“Before what?” Bruce snaps.

Blood sighs. “Before he withdraws and it shuts down entirely.”

The bats stirring and Jason’s shallow breathing are the only sounds in the cave. Tim swallows thickly, he doesn’t dare to look up and see Bruce’s expression.

“Then you have to find a way to break the spell,” Damian says eventually. For the first time since Tim has met him, he looks like a child his age. “Break it so you can get in there and bring him back.”

“Would that it were so simple, child.” Blood says gravely. “The spell can only be broken from the inside. I would not risk having another practitioner of magick come into contact with him while it is still in place. The damage done could be irreversible.”

“Who could be responsible for a spell this advanced here in Gotham?” Dick’s jaw is tight, his fists are clenched.

“I know of only one witch accomplished enough in the dark arts..” Zatanna says.

“Klarion.” Bruce growls. “The witch boy.”

“Then we’ll find him,” Dick says determinedly. “We’ll find him and make him break the hex.”

“He could be anywhere,” Blood shakes his head. “He will be expecting us to look for him and there are dimensions even myself and Zatanna have not yet traversed.”

“You don’t have a tracing spell to track him down?”

“Yes, but these things take time, Dick.” Zatanna sighs. “Jason’s condition is deteriorating with every minute.”

An errant tear trickles down Jason’s cheek. Tim wipes it away with his thumb.

“You said no practitioner of magick can enter his mind while the curse is in place?” He asks.

“Yes.” Blood replies. “Prolonged contact would kill one, if not both of us.”

“So a non-powered person could go there, correct?”

Blood nods thoughtfully. “In theory, I suppose.”

“Then send me.” Tim turns to face Zatanna. “Send me into his mind to retrieve him while the rest go looking for the witch.”

“I don’t know, Tim.” Zatanna says, doubtful. “It’s too dangerous. Who knows what sort of hexes Klarion has in place inside his mind.”

“I don’t care,” Tim shakes his head. “If there’s the slightest chance I can go in there and reach him then I have to—“

“No.” Bruce cuts across. “It’s out of the question, Tim. You’re not going.”

“Bruce, someone has to get to him before it’s too late—“

“Then _I’ll_ go.” Bruce says firmly. “I won’t have any more of you risking your lives.”

“We risk our lives every day for a lot less.” Tim argues. “You’re needed out here, Bruce. If anybody stands a chance of tracking Klarion down and forcing him to lift the curse, it’s you.”

“Tim..” Bruce pleads, his eyes beseeching.

“You know I’m right. You’ll find him quicker than any of the rest of us put together. But Jason needs someone in there with him now to help him fight this.” Tim swallows around the lump swelling in his throat. “To let him know that he’s not alone.”

Bruce’s expression is pained. He closes his eyes and blows out a deep breath.

“I... can’t lose you both.”

“You won’t.” Tim insists, striding over to grab Bruce’s hand. He squeezes it imploringly. “You won’t lose any of us, Bruce. I promise. Despite what Jason might say, we’re a family and I know none of us will give up until we’re all back safe with each other again.”

“He’s right, Bruce.” Dicks says, clasping Tim’s shoulder. “We need you out here to track that son of a bitch down and _somebody,_ whether it’s Timmy or me, needs to go and get Jay because with every second that goes by he’s losing time.”

Bruce sighs through his nose and shakes his head. “I can’t leave him again.. Not after—“

“ _Don’t_ , B.” Tim clenches Bruce’s hand. “This is nothing like that. We’re bringing him back, okay? As a family.”

The muscles in Bruce’s jaw clench before he opens his eyes. They are bright with renewed determination. “Alright,” he says, raising a gauntleted hand to cup the side of Tim’s face. “You both come back to me safe and well, you hear?”

“We’ll be a pain in your ass again in no time.” Tim smiles weakly.

“Hn.” Bruce doesn’t smile, but there is warmth in his eyes momentarily before he turns to address the rest of them. “Dick and Damian, we’ll go to the Bowery where this happened Jason and see if that might lead us to Klarion’s whereabouts.”

“I have some contacts that might be able to track him down.” Blood says, wrapping his hand in some gauze from the med-bay. “Though Etrigan could possibly lead us straight to him.”

“Do you think he’d be willing to help?” Bruce asks, fixing on his cowl.

“If the mood takes him.” Blood arches a thick eyebrow. “Fickle old demon that he is.”

“Then go consult your contacts first before letting him take over. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“That we will, old friend.” Blood nods before fixing his gaze on Tim. “Tread carefully, Red Robin. Even a peaceful mind is a hostile place.”

Before Tim can respond, Blood disappears with a crack, leaving only a whirl of smoke in his wake.

“You take care of yourself in there, little bro.” Dick wraps his arms around Tim and brings him to his chest. “We’ll track this little bastard down and have you both back in no time.” He drops a light kiss into Tim’s hair. “Tell Jay we love him, alright?”

“I will.” Tim squeezes him tight before letting go, stepping back only to be met with Damian scowling up at him.

“Try not to mess this one up, Drake.” He mutters glancing to the side before throwing his arms around Tim’s shoulders and whispering in his ear. “If you don’t come back I swear I’ll tear through the very fabric of time and space to find you and kick your sorry ass.”

Tim laughs and hugs Damian back. “I don’t doubt it, Demon,” he says, drawing back with a grin. Over Damian’s shoulder, he sees Bruce brush his fingers softly across Jason’s cheek. Tim swallows and ruffles Damian’s hair. “Now get going. We’ll be here when you get back.”

A final nod in farewell and Bruce and the boys leap into the Batmobile and tear out of the cave. Tim releases a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

 Alfred clears his throat behind him. “Master Timothy,” he says through a watery smile, “You have made us all very proud young man. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go and brief Oracle on the situation. I’ll be expecting yourself and Master Jason back for dinner tonight.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Alf.” Tim watches him climb upstairs with a fond smile, allowing himself a moment’s pause before turning to Zatanna with renewed resolve. “Okay... I’m ready when you are, Zee.”

“You know once I send you, I won’t be able to get you back,” she says softly. “You’ll have to find your own way or wait until the hex is lifted.”

“I know.” Tim wheels another gurney to stand beside Jason’s.

“Then I’m assuming you also know that if you get hurt or killed in there you’ll never return to your body again? There are fates worse than death, Tim.”

“I’m aware.”  

“You’re sure I can’t talk you out of this?”

Tim gazes at Jason’s face; ghostly white but for the pentacle, bright and menacing on his forehead.

“Absolutely positive.”

Zatanna snorts. “Already as brave and pigheaded as your mentor..”

He smiles softly and gives Jason’s hand a tight squeeze before lying back on the bed.

“Will this hurt?” he’s not sure why he asks—anything to distract him from the pounding in his chest, the churning in his stomach.

“Only if I manage to cock it up and send different parts of your body to different dimensions.” Zatanna laughs. “Which hasn’t happened... Well. Not in recent years anyways.”

“Huh?”

“I was high, alright? And it kind-of sort-of wasn’t that much of an accident,” she amends quickly. “He really wasn’t a nice guy.”

“Well in that case...” Tim inhales a deep breath and closes his eyes.  “Let’s do this.”

“Okay, buddy. Nice deep breaths and count down from ten.”

Tim breathes in through his nose, holds it, and out through his mouth. He feels Zatanna’s cool fingers brush against his forehead and he starts counting back from _10...9...8..._

  _“DNES MIH OT EHT DNIM FO NOSAJ DDOT”_

It feels as if someone has kicked him in the base of the spine and spontaneously jerked him forward by a leash around his neck. He is spinning and tumbling, with no sense of up or down, left and right. He cries out, but he hears nothing but the rush of blood in his ears. His surroundings are a blinding kaleidoscope of colours and light.

 He spins and spins in the void for what seems like an eternity until his whole world is black and he neither sees nor hears anything at all.

 

*****


End file.
